


Trial Run

by Jalules



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Communication, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hypnotism, Incest, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Sexual Content, Trust, consensual hypnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalules/pseuds/Jalules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk only stops moving when he’s dead asleep, or actually temporarily dead, or-<br/>“Or are you like, doing that hypnosis thing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laughablyunimportant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughablyunimportant/gifts).



> A tumblr commission fic- a pleasure to write and I hope I did the topic justice!  
> For info on my commissions, check my tumblr.

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“Hey,” Dave says softly, “Are you sleeping?”

Dirk is laying against him, dressed in the boxer briefs and tank top that pass for his pajamas, head resting in Dave’s lap, taking full advantage of their mutual couch chilling time. He’s got his shades on, which means he could potentially be holding a conversation or reading a novel or watching the Kentucky Derby, but Dave doesn’t think so. He’s being quiet, which isn’t too unusual, but he also isn’t moving at all, which arouses the hell out of Dave’s suspicions. Dirk only stops moving when he’s dead asleep, or actually temporarily dead, or-

“Or are you like, doing that hypnosis thing?” 

“No,” Dirk says, so suddenly that Dave jumps, “Not yet anyway.”

“Well damn, don’t let me hold you up,” Dave tells him, and leans more firmly against the back of the couch, settling in for the long haul of whatever state Dirk is planning to brain-trick himself into. He does this kind of thing often enough that it stopped being weird to Dave a while ago, moving easily from  _ what the fucking fuck _ territory into  _ okay this is actually not that freaky and I can see how learning to do that helped with your splintered selves mess _ and finally finding a home in the land of  _ you can set your subconscious lose any time, man, doesn’t bother me.  _

And it doesn’t, really. It’s kind of nice, actually, to catch a glimpse of Dirk being totally relaxed. He usually keeps this kind of thing to himself, all peace and quiet and privacy, but the fact that he’s allowed Dave to catch him, several times now, with his eyes rolled back, breathing slow and calming, makes him sure that Dirk is at least comfortable sharing it, showing him that much.

“You aren’t holding me up,” Dirk assures him, and reaches up to slide his shades off. 

Dave tenses, the unspoken message that shit is about to get serious received loud and clear. He pushes his own shades up to rest on top of his head, showing solidarity in his lack of protective eyewear.

“I wanted to talk to you about it, actually,” Dirk says, a hint of hesitation in his voice, “If you’d be comfortable with that.”

Dave shrugs, thinks, doesn’t say, that he could probably be comfortable with anything as long as Dirk is laying in his lap and looking at him like this, “Communication Station is open and accepting all traffic.”

“Cool,” Dirk says, “Because this is a fuckin’ freighter I’m about to roll in,” And he doesn’t pause long enough for Dave to string together a sufficiently crude and convoluted metaphor before going on, “How would you feel about me being under hypnosis when we’re together?”

“Together,” Dave repeats, looking down into Dirk’s surprisingly expressive eyes, half-afraid his own are betraying him right now, making him look all adoring and slightly concerned exactly the way he doesn’t want to let on to, “Like in the same room? You’ve done that before and I was fine with it.”

“Nah, like,” Dirk sits up carefully, maneuvering out of Dave’s lap, looking at him right side up now, “Like, together in an activity. Potentially any activity; knitting, watching a movie, playing Yahtzee, whatever. But ideally something physical,” He pauses here, probably for dramatic effect, “Sexual,” He says finally, “Fucking, is the point I’m getting at.”

And yeah, okay, that is a freighter of a topic to drive in here. Dave’s knee jerk reaction is split somewhere between confusion and curiosity, but he can’t quite tell the percentages on either side.

“You wanna...mess around while you’re hypnotized?” He asks, and hurries to make sure he’s understood, “Not judging, just clarifying. You want to get down and dirty when you’re in a self-induced trance. That’s what you’re telling me.”

Dirk fidgets, the motion familiar and expected enough that it grounds Dave a little, helps him focus when Dirk says, “Yeah. If you want to. It was just a thought, and not one that needs to be entertained. We can cut that show short right here, right now, end that thought’s career if you’re not on board-  just drag that sadsack off stage with one of those old timey Vaudeville hooks, alright?”

Dave nods his understanding, answers quick, just in case Dirk is misreading his processing time for discomfort or disinterest, “Yeah, no, gotcha. I mean, I wouldn’t blacklist that bad boy just yet,” He meets Dirk’s eyes, trying to decide if they actually look wider, nervous, or if it’s just his imagination. He forgets how big and earnest Dirk’s eyes can look when they’re not behind his shades, “If that’s something you want to do, we could try it.”

Dirk doesn’t visibly relax the way Dave would like him to. Everything in his posture is screaming  _ yes yes yes that’s exactly what I want _ , but he doesn’t say so. He shifts his shoulders, uneasy and uncertain, “But would you  _ want _ to?”

Dave opens his mouth, snaps it shut, lets his brain catch up before he can blurt out an affirmative, eager to please. He thinks of how nice it is when Dirk relaxes enough to lean against him, to move into his touch without hesitation, without thinking too much. Those moments are few and far between, but Dave  _ really _ likes it when they happen. Dirk likes it too, has whispered as much against Dave’s ear when he was trembling and too far gone to stop his stream of consciousness rambling- Dave knows the feeling. It’s sort of how he’s lived his life, aiming for constant vigilance, failing spectacularly, learning to accept it.

Dirk is a master of the craft though. Dude practically monitors his own heart rate, along with anyone else’s near him. He puts a lot of pressure on himself, so when he lets his guard down it’s a miracle, and Dave fully intends to embrace that sort of religious experience, even if it is brought on by self-hypnosis.

“Yeah,” He says, “Yeah I’d like to try. At least like, the hanging out part. Skip the knitting, maybe work up to the fucking?”

Dirk breathes out a relieved sigh, saying, “Sure. We can take it as far as you want, no pressure.”

Dave shivers at that, a nice sort of shiver that comes from somewhere he can’t quite pinpoint and leaves him drumming his fingers against his knee in nervous excitement, “No pressure, sure, sweet,” He studies the pattern of his own boxers, neon bright and so hideous they could only be a present from Terezi, asks, “So are we...doing this now? Or did you want to wait? I mean, I don’t know if I’m dressed appropriately or if you’ve got all your mental shit in check-”

“We could try it now if you want,” Dirk says with a shrug, the gesture a shitty disguise to prop up in front of his embarrassed anticipation, “I can usually get myself to a good place in thirty seconds. It’ll take me a while to completely relax but, yeah.”

“Hell yeah,” Dave says sternly, assuring the both of them that he’s on board.

“It’s pretty simple,” Dirk says, with the ease of someone about to explain quantum mechanics to a third grader, “I put myself under with the idea that you’re going to take control, and then...you do,” He smiles lopsidedly, continuing, “Fulfilling my every pubescent fantasy and a couple I didn’t know I had until I found some super shady and long defunct internet forums. And whenever you want to stop, you can tell me to wake up and I’ll wake the fuck up.”

“Can you wake  _ yourself _ up?” Dave asks, uneasily. Though he knows for a fact that Dirk can snap himself into and out of altered states of mind the way most people switch television channels, he wants to be sure, figures Dirk will want to be sure too.

“If I need to,” Dirk tells him, sounding very certain. 

“So, you can get yourself in the zone and then I...take over.”

“Yup. Then you just tell me what to do.”

Dave’s breath hitches and Dirk notices, smiles just slightly. He looks into Dave’s eyes and the direct, unwavering contact is already making Dave squirm in desire, has Dirk looking just antsy enough that Dave begins to doubt his ability to let go enough to make this happen.

“Okay,” He says, more to calm himself than anything, “And is there anything that’s like, patently not cool? Just, totally off the table? Won’t touch it with a ten foot pole and a hazmat suit on?”

Dirk hesitates. It’s right on the tip of Dave’s tongue to remind him that he doesn’t have to prove anything here, doesn’t have a challenge to rise to, but before he can trip over himself in a shower of reassurances, Dirk shakes his head. He breathes in, out, slow and steady, “I trust you,” He says, and Dave is pretty sure he can feel his heart in his throat, trying to strangle him with how weird and sentimental he feels right now.

So they try it.

Dave sits beside Dirk on the couch, watching him settle in and get comfortable. There’s an air of anxiety around them; Dave afraid he’ll run his mouth right off a cliff and into an ocean of bullshit and ruin this, Dirk simply on edge as he prepares to give up even an inch of control. That anxiety fades as Dirk closes his eyes, as Dave watches, committing to memory how good Dirk looks like this, more vulnerable than either of them is ever okay with being- except that like this, he is. Minutes tick by, uncounted, but Dave appreciates every one that passes, the way Dirk’s breathing evens out perfectly the longer he’s at it.

The trick to this kind of thing, as far as Dave can tell, is rolling your eyes way the fuck back into your head. That’s what Dirk does anyway, and breathes deep, slow, slower, smiling slightly when Dave accidentally says out loud that he’s doing great. That smile slips as the tension eases out of him, as he sinks back into the couch as easy as falling asleep. For a while Dave feels like maybe he isn’t really a part of this at all, that he’s just going to be a shoulder to lean on when Dirk gets to a place where he’s loose and calm- and honestly? He’d be fine with that.

He’s mentally composing a parody of the Pillow Pet jingle he could use to sell himself as a snuggly friend and/or sleeping place when Dirk’s body goes that much more slack, his shoulders sunk comfortably into the back of the couch. His eyelids are fluttering slightly and it looks as though he might actually have passed out. Dave clears his throat, says, in a whisper, “Um. Dirk?”

Dirk makes a small, questioning sound, something so close to a mewl that Dave can’t help but murmur, “Aww.”

Dirk says nothing, just sits very still, head tipped slightly back. He looks so peaceful, Dave almost doesn’t want to bug him. But he’s supposed to be participating here, not just watching the guy drift off into a self-induced trance, so he asks, “Dirk, can you open your eyes for me?”

And just like that, Dirk’s eyes are open, his gaze settled in Dave’s direction, sort of sleepy.

“Cool,” Dave murmurs, because it kind of is, incredibly so. He reaches out to Dirk, hesitates a moment before announcing his intentions, “I’m gonna touch you, okay?”

He gets another soft response, this one a little closer to a word, just a “Kay,” of acknowledgement as he brushes his fingers against the tattoo on Dirk’s arm, feather light.

“Damn you’re good at this,” Dave tells him, touch trailing up, over Dirk’s shoulder, along the line of his neck. Dirk tilts his head, giving Dave room to touch as easy and eager as if it were his mouth against that skin, kissing, licking, biting, instead of just testing the waters. He cups Dirk’s cheek, grins when he turns into the touch like a plant to sunlight, “I kind of figured but I mean, you seriously are just suggestible as fuck right about now, huh?”

And bless him and every other weirdly endearing, sexy thing in the universe, Dirk nods.

Dave’s dick twitches in his hideously bright boxers. His chest feels tight and his stomach is working on some sick backflips right about now. They’re seriously doing this- doing hypnotized touching, hypnotized maybe sex experiments.

“Feelin’ like Pavlov over here,” Dave says, reaching out to brush his fingers along Dirk’s jaw, “I’ll ring the fuck out of your bell any day, man. Get right in there and...screw that pooch. Wait. No. Not what I meant.”

Dirk doesn’t comment on his rambling, just smiles vaguely and leans into his hand, nuzzling against his palm. He sighs contentedly as Dave strokes his cheek, traces the shell of his ear. 

“So you can ignore my bullshit like this. Awesome,” Dave comments, sliding his hand up into Dirk’s hair to smooth down the spots that stick up, nearly petting. He scratches lightly at Dirk’s scalp, hears him hum a pleased, involuntary sound. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he tries, “Hey, Dirk?”

And Dirk’s eyes are on his, strange in their sudden focus even as his shoulders slump and his head rests heavily against Dave’s palm, “Hm?”

“Kiss me,” He says, too softly, too self-conscious for it to be any kind of proper command.

Dirk leans in just far enough to reach his mouth, brushes their lips together lightly, and when Dave kisses him back, pets his jaw and nudges his chin to coax his mouth open, he accepts the tongue that slides against his own, moans louder than Dave would expect him to. He’s still sitting back though, limp against the couch, and the angle is awkward.

“Come closer,” Dave says breathlessly, and watches him pull his legs up fully onto the couch and crawl dutifully forward to align his knees with the edge of the cushion Dave is currently occupying, “That’s it,” He says encouragingly, “Break right on into that personal space, get cozy.”

Dirk’s lips are suddenly too far away from Dave’s for his liking, but only because Dirk has slumped onto his chest, nuzzling into his neck. Dave raises his arms belatedly to offer a gentle embrace, realizing he just initiated an unofficial cuddling intermission.

“Holy shit, that’s fuckin’ adorable,” Dave tells him, tightening the impromptu hug briefly before easing Dirk back away from him, careful with his loose limbed body. He considers just continuing in this snugglier vein of pastimes- he hadn’t exactly intended to steer this in a sexual direction so fast. His body just got a little ahead of him is all. But Dirk  _ wanted _ something physical, said so specifically, and Dave doesn’t want to disappoint. So if they’re both on the same wavelength…

“Do you usually get hot and bothered when you do this?” Dave asks, unsure if the question will hit its mark, if Dirk will be able to pick it apart when his thoughts have been purposely dulled and rerouted.

But Dirk tips his head in a lazy nod, murmuring, “Sometimes.”

“You’re pretty turned on right now though,” Dave says, maybe an observation, maybe a suggestion to follow, but either way Dirk’s hips jerk almost imperceptibly, confirming it with a low moan.

“Show me,” Dave says, giddy, curious to see what Dirk will do with that directive. He watches, slightly awed, as Dirk brings both hands to his chest, dragging his thumbs over his nipples through the fabric of his tank, his breath coming out in sharp little gasps. He drops his fingers lower, lower, searching, till they find the hem of the shirt and pull up clumsily, only managing to get it up around his armpits, sideways and rumpled, before Dave interrupts.

“Wait,” He says, and Dirk’s hands go still. His whole  _ body _ goes still, lax and waiting. Seeing him like this, caught in the middle of his dreamy sort of-strip tease, awaiting orders but looking so serene, so genuinely content, even with an increasingly obvious erection, and Dave is tempted to kiss him again, to just keep kissing him till Dirk eventually  _ has _ to wake up, hot and sluggish and adorably dazed. He holds back, though.

He traces a line down Dirk’s arm, shoulder to bicep to elbow to forearm to wrist, and when he reaches his palm Dirk is shivering, his whole body leaning in for the light touch. He’s breathing harder now but he still looks relaxed, as if Dave could push him back with one finger and he’d go down like a ton of bricks.

“Do you feel good?” Dave asks him, partly teasing, partly checking in, and Dirk’s affirmative sound is nearly a groan. Dave drags his fingertips back up Dirk’s arm again, wrist to elbow to shoulder and further, to his neck, which he readily exposes, head lolling to one side, “Are you getting off on this?”

As obvious as it is that, yes, he really and truly is, it’s incredibly satisfying to hear Dirk sigh, “Yeah,” his hips twitching up intermittently as if they’ve got a mind of their own, his dick still trapped beneath his boxer briefs, meeting nothing but air with each squirming movement, turning the fabric dark with precome.

“You want me to get you off?”

“Yeah,” Dirk says again, voice coming out choked and desperate.

“Tell me,” Dave insists, “Tell me what you want.”

Dirk licks his lips, doesn’t quite shut his mouth after as he struggles to find words, to string together a coherent sentence rather than a simple yes or no, “I want...I wanna come.”

Dave drops a hand to Dirk’s waist, lower, fitting his fingers over a hip bone and pressing, rubbing soothingly with his thumb, “I think we can arrange that.”

He steers Dirk’s hips gently, coaxing him nearly into his lap so he’s straddling one thigh and breathing hard as he waits for further instructions. And those instructions come right to the forefront of Dave’s mind, more clear and concise than he can usually manage, but just thinking them makes him feel flushed and dizzy. He steadies himself, forces the words out as smoothly as he can, saying “Hump my leg until you come.”

Dirk grinds down against his thigh immediately. The full body shiver that follows makes the movement jerky and uncertain, but with a few more rolls of his hips he’s settled into a rhythm, moving fluidly, mindlessly, his underwear stretched thin and damp where it catches between his dick and Dave’s skin. He lets Dave guide his hands till they’re braced against his chest for balance, fingers curled loosely over Dave’s collar bone.

Dave slips his hands down, off Dirk’s hips to cup his ass, tracing the fingers of one hand low, so that when Dirk moves back, into that hand, they press promisingly between his cheeks, drawing a gasp out of him.

“You like that?” Dave asks, and the sharp “Yes,” he gets in response could almost have him feeling smug, if he wasn’t so preoccupied with how easily Dirk is coming apart for him like this. He fits his left hand more snugly against Dirk’s ass, fingertips-over-fabric teasing at his hole with each jerk of his hips, and Dirk  _ whimpers _ . 

“D’you want me to fuck you like this next time?” Dave asks, already knowing damn well the answer he’ll get but shuddering all the same when Dirk nods enthusiastically, grinding down hard against him. Dirk’s own thigh is nudging his dick, not quite direct enough, not at all hard enough, but Dave’s got his full attention on Dirk’s mouth right now, too focused on what he isn’t saying to worry much about himself, “Tell me,” He says, hushed, almost pleading, “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“A lot-” Dirk gasps, and squirms, and for a moment Dave thinks that’s all he’ll say which is hilarious and perfect all on its own, but no, Dirk keeps talking, “A lot of ways- I want, I wanna, right here, I wanna ride you, I really, really-” Dave cuts him off with a kiss, soft, sucking at his lower lip and laughing when Dirk keeps speaking, mumbling against his mouth, “Wanna ride you.”

“Next time,” Dave promises, and if he wasn’t convinced that at this point he’d go off in his ugly shorts before he could even direct Dirk through fingering himself open the way he wants to, he’d be tempted to try and make it  _ this _ time. Next time though- next time he could let Dirk ride him, could tell him to ride him till his legs gave out and he’s sure Dirk would be shaking all over by the end of it. Next time he could probably get Dirk off without even touching him, with the suggestion of imagined sensation, with just a phrase.

Dave works his free hand clumsily down his own shorts, getting his fingers around his dick and his thumb at the head as fast as he can. He kisses Dirk once, twice more, breaks away to speak against his ear, “Come for me, Dirk.”

And maybe it’s a coincidence or maybe Dirk really does come in his boxer briefs at the exact moment that Dave tells him to, but either way Dave cannot possibly give a single fuck. Watching Dirk arch and gasp and go boneless again just as fast is too much, sends him right over the edge. He comes into his hand, muffling a curse against Dirk’s cheek. He stays right there, lips right up against Dirk’s skin, admiring the sound of his breathing, the heat of him.

He kisses Dirk again, slow and languid as he nudges his thigh up just slightly between Dirk’s legs, pressing against his dick just to appreciate the overstimulated whimper it drags out of him. He shushes the sound, licks into Dirk’s mouth before pulling away enough to whisper, “Wake up now,” against his lips, and kissing him softly.

Dirk’s body goes momentarily tense, just enough to sit up straighter, to redirect his dick from the distraction of Dave’s thigh. He’s not as relaxed as he was, not by a long shot, but he still seems sleepy, maybe just dazed after coming, when he catches his breath between kisses and says, “...hi.”

“Oh cool,” Dave says, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, to his cheek, “You’re not lost to an eternal sex trance.”

Dirk laughs shakily, says, “That’s a whole other fantasy,” Then, squirming a little as he drops his weight back onto Dave’s lap, pointedly not resting too heavily against his thigh, “You made me jizz my pants.”

“Yeah man,” Dave says pleasantly, and leans back a bit, giving them both a little breathing room, “To be fair, mine are pretty wrecked too.”

Dirk glances down at the neon shorts, lip curling in what is probably a silent suggestion that those particular boxers were wrecked from the start, but doesn’t comment on them. He asks, careful, “So you liked it, then?”

“Fuckin’ a,” Dave says, “You have shown me the light. Consider me a believer in hypno-sex.”

“Please don’t call it that,” Dirk says flatly, but he’s smiling.

“Tranced out tantric-” Dave tries again, but Dirk snorts and shakes his head, “Fugue fucking-” He says, and Dirk plants a hand over his mouth to stop him, grudgingly lifts it when Dave tries to speak anyway, the words coming out just muffled enough that he  _ has _ to know what they were supposed to be.

“Stupor screwing,” Dave says, and Dirk tenderly faceplants into his neck, giving up in an entirely different fashion.

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End file.
